


i'm latching onto you

by theghostofjamespotter



Category: Stereo Kicks (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Canon Compliant, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 20:28:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3868741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theghostofjamespotter/pseuds/theghostofjamespotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys are on the road again and Barclay's not sure if he's just claustrophobic or a little homesick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm latching onto you

**Author's Note:**

> Charlie tweeted that video of their tour bus, showing all eight beds and everything went downhill from there for me.

The tour bus was too small.

Barclay examined the single bunk that was meant to be his, the couple of feet between where his head would lay and the underside of Chris’ bunk. He imagined laying there, the drum of the road rolling beneath him and total darkness surrounding him on all sides. It’d be just like camp. Camp on wheels.

Or maybe more like a coffin.

Of course, there were eight boys. Their quarters were bound to feel at least a little cramped, but this was just straight up _small._

He swallowed hard against the growing knot in his throat.

Barclay knew that getting eight boys around the country was going to be uncomfortable, at best; completely and totally claustrophobic, at worst. This is what they signed up for, they knew that, and, obviously, the inconveniences were worth it.

Still, Barclay was going to miss his bed.

He tucked away his bags and side-stepped to the lounge at the back of the bus to meet up with the other boys. Their bus had a lounge and a kitchen, and yet, Barclay could feel his claustrophobia creeping up under his skin. He wondered if he could maybe get away with sleeping in the lounge. Just for the first night. Until he got used to it.

That idea was squashed immediately. First of all, the couches in the lounge were much too small to really sleep on. Closed in or not, at least his bed was a proper single. Secondly, a tv sat in the corner, Fifa on the screen. There wasn’t going to be a moment of peace in this part of the bus. Already, Jake and Chris were wrestling their fingers over controllers, the plastic click-clacking a steady cadence against their shouting. Knowing Jake, this could go on all night.

“Barcs,” Tom called out, patting the section of sofa next to him. Barclay watched the game on the tv, but slid over next to Tom, the older boy’s arm resting just above his shoulders.

“Settled in?” Tom asked. He was asking about the bed situation. Clearly.

“’Bout as well as I can be, yeah.” Barclay said. “It’s a bit smaller than I’d thought.”

“This bus is huge!” Charlie came into the lounge, wielding his phone in front of his face. “Look at this lounge!”

Tom winked at Barclay. “Apparently Charlie disagrees.”

The night carried on about the same as any other did when they were all together. Casey and Charlie were both taking turns making videos and the boys migrated between their bunks and the lounge. Barclay went where there were the least people, hoping that he might, for a moment, be able to take in a full breath.

He loved his boys, but adjusting to seven other people around him at all times took a bit.

And eventually, one by one, they all crawled into bed. Barclay wasn’t the last to be in his bed (that was almost always either James or Jake, or both of them if they kept each other up), but he knew for certain he’d be the last one still awake.

He kept testing the parameters of his bunk in the dark. Stretching his arms out slowly from his sides, he figured he had an extra foot of space on either side of him, give or take a few inches. From head to toe, lying down, he only had an extra couple of inches of wiggle room. He wondered how James and Reece were dealing, imagining their knees bent while they slept on their sides.

Inevitably, Barclay started thinking of his bed. Not his bed back home, though that should have been the logical choice, given that he’d just spent time at home with his family. But that wasn’t really his bed anymore, at least, not in the way the bed at the flat was.

The bed he shared with Tom.

It wasn’t like comparatively he had much more room to himself on their bed than he did in the bus bunk. Tom, frankly, was a bed hog, an admirable feat for someone his size. Barclay had lost count of the number of mornings he’d found himself pushed to the edge of the bed, one of Tom’s limbs locked onto his, the rest splayed across the entirety of their mattress. Don’t even mention the embarrassing portion of blankets Barclay got.

But it was their space. It was where they’d come back to and tuck in without worry. It had even started to smell like them, a mix of Tom’s deodorant and Barclay’s cologne. And sure, Barclay let Tom take up more than his fair share of space, but it was because no matter what, they were comfortable in that bed together.

There was nothing comfortable about this bed. Not the vague smell of bleach that was not-so-subtly covered in Febreeze. Not the thick planks the mattress laid on. Not the curtain that closed him off from the others and gave him the feeling he was being buried alive.

He wondered if Tom missed their bed, too.

Barclay held his breath, listening for any signs that Tom might still be awake. It was ridiculous to think that he could pick out anything among a chorus of seven potentially sleeping boys, but Barclay was determined. A few minutes passed like that and the only sound Barclay really picked out was that it was definitely Casey snoring in the bunk across from him.

There wasn’t a reason he couldn’t go check to see if Tom was still awake. Best case scenario, Tom is awake and they maybe go to the lounge for a bit. Worst case scenario, Tom is asleep and if anyone else is awake, they’d notice Barclay up and about.

Just as Barclay had resolved to get out of his bed, his curtains fluttered open. Luckily, he had already propped himself up, otherwise he certainly would have smacked his head on Chris’ bunk.

Tom’s head poked through the gap. “Still up?”

“Clearly.”

“Mind if I, er, join you?”

Barclay lifted the corner of his blankets, inviting Tom into the small space. Tom climbed in underneath the covers with him and fitted himself against Barclay’s chest.

“Just like home,” Tom joked and Barclay’s pulse jumped. They’d never been this close at home, not purposefully, anyway, not for anything more than a laugh.

 _And yet._ It felt good, to have Tom pressed into him, slowly brushing his toes over Barclay’s feet, arm tight over the smallest part of Barclay’s middle. He breathed in deep and willed the smell, that mix of him and Tom, to seep into the sheets.

“This alright?” Tom asked and Barclay nodded against him.

“Yeah, it’s great.” He reached up absentmindedly and his fingers played in Tom’s hair.

“Can I stay?” Tom asked and Barclay was grateful. For the first time all night, his claustrophobia subsided and though the two of them were squeezed in tight, the space didn’t seem so small if he just focused on Tom.

“Yeah, you can stay,” he said. “But next time, bring your own blankets.”


End file.
